<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>Silhouette by Denzer</title>
<style type="text/css">

body { background-color: #ffffff; }
.CI {
text-align:center;
margin-top:0px;
margin-bottom:0px;
padding:0px;
}
.center   {text-align: center;}
.cover    {text-align: center;}
.full     {width: 100%; }
.quarter  {width: 25%; }
.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
.u        {text-decoration: underline;}
.bold     {font-weight: bold;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25488352">Silhouette</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Denzer/pseuds/Denzer'>Denzer</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst with a Happy Ending, Ben Solo Needs A Hug, Ben needs to have sex with Rey to distract the Sith. It's angsty. And kinda gross., Dark!Rey, Dubious Consent, Empress Rey, F/M, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Oral Sex, Redeemed Ben Solo, Reluctant Sub!Ben, Sith Rey, The Author Regrets Everything</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-07-24</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-07-24</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-05 02:48:29</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>6,257</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25488352</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Denzer/pseuds/Denzer</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Ben is too late to save Rey from the Dark Side. Now, he must find a way of distracting the Sith that have taken over her body while he tries to bring her back to him through the Bond. </p><p>  <em>Her body tenses when he takes her bottom lip between his teeth, hands pressed to his shoulders as if she might push him back.<br/>Rey would want to push him back now. He holds her tighter, one hand slipping lower on her back, over the round of her ass, pressing her against him. He grips his side of the Bond and yanks hard, focused on his memory of her with such force it makes him still entirely.</em></p><p>  <strong><br/><em>Don’t want this? Fight then, scavenger.</em><br/></strong></p><p> </p><p>  </p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Kylo Ren/Rey, Rey/Ben Solo, Rey/Ben Solo | Kylo Ren</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>20</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>64</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Silhouette</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Ben is searching for her. She can feel him, tenacious and stubborn and so, so <em>close</em>. He is minutes from her. But Poe’s X-Wing is seconds from crashing.  And another, and another, and another. Rey has no choice. Then again, she has not had a life where her choices were ever all that varied. It’s not overwhelming.</p><p> </p><p>The Light that’s left in her surges, clawing at her, desperate. As always, it brings her straight to him. Ben stops running, mouth caught on her name, and holds up his empty hands as if Rey can’t tell exactly who she is looking at. There is a slow dawn of understanding across his tense features as he feels the decision she’s made. This is the last time they will speak. His fingers curl tight, a pulse of panic, latching her to him. Now that the conflict has left him, his Force signature is so bright. So <em>strong</em>. But, so far away.</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <em>Rey. Don’t.</em>
</p><p> </p><p>She blinks a tear, too overcome to speak, and he says her name again, aloud. His voice is cracked and hollowed and filled with fear. The Bond is shuddering with his churning thoughts, his desperation converging on a single point.</p><p> </p><p>“Don’t.”</p><p> </p><p>She does.</p><p> </p><p>It’s such a small thing. Arm out, eyes closed, thumb pressed tight. And it’s done. The Power travels up her wrist. Dead weight and the smell of rot and a rush of noise from the stands around her like a pulled breath. But Rey has always worked with what little she had and she knows what she needs to do now. This is not fear. It isn’t regret.</p><p> </p><p>She drags herself away from the heavy dredge of Darkness and takes the smallest portion she can handle without engulfing herself. She has seconds.</p><p> </p><p>Ben first. Always. The Knights fall around him and he bursts into a sprint, racing toward her. Then, the Destroyers, all of them. There is a swell of outrage from the hooded rows, as Rey disables the fleet. And now the rebel ships. She raises her off-hand for this, because it’s the hardest part and the last part and there is so little time left. The Power is at her shoulders now, holding her tight in its grip. She cannot fail.</p><p> </p><p>The crafts soar through the cosmos, Resistance and civilian alike, pushed on a colossal wave of everything she has left. Some of them crash. The galaxy is so big and so many came to help. She never had a chance of saving all of them. She feels the spark of seventeen deaths fluttering in the centre of her chest but these failures will only hurt for now. In that way, the Darkness closing over her is almost a comfort. It will be over soon and there is Finn and Rose and Poe and Chewie, all safe.</p><p> </p><p>But Ben is still coming, his pounding breath in her ears.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>Ben. You’re too late. Run.</em>
</p><p> </p><p>He doesn’t.</p><p> </p><p>She watches for him as the Darkness swamps her, eyes glued to where she knows he will appear, any moment now. She waits until she can’t stand it for another second, then a fraction longer. She is made of hope. Even when all hope is lost. Especially then.</p><p> </p><p>As the first Red Guard falls, Rey’s head tips back, trying to call out, to stay with him, to fight the Power that’s crawling over her. She’s too late to meet Ben’s eye. She clings to him anyway, as the Darkness curls over her lips and into her mouth and down her throat, filling her body with a pressure that strains her ribs. The Bond tugs hard as he grips it, a gossamer thread, trying to hold on to her.</p><p> </p><p>Her fingers release the lightsaber, launch it toward his waiting hand.</p><p> </p><p>He is her last thing. The throb of his dismay. The strength of him in the Force, steadfastly clutching her closer, even as he fights the Guard.</p><p> </p><p><em>Beautiful. Bright. So bright</em>…</p><p> </p><p>Too bright.  </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>*             *             *             *             *</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>Ben swears he can hear the <em>snick</em> as the Bond is cut. It flares and dies as he fights. He twists, spinning the saber to protect his back, grunting at the loss of her. It takes focus to keep from looking toward her as he drops every man in the room.</p><p> </p><p>The last of the Guard falls and he’s left alone, breathing hard, almost afraid to face her. She is still in place, lifted from the floor, head thrown back, and mouth open in a wordless scream. Her arm is outstretched toward him, fingers spread wide from when she’d thrown the saber. Before her, the black robes of the Emperor have fallen empty from his clawed throne.  The air is heavy with Darkness, every breath filled with sulphur and decay. He takes a step toward her.</p><p> </p><p>There are voices. They echo inside him. They tell him what must be done. To save her, to end this: Cleave the vessel before the transfer can be completed. Run her through.</p><p> </p><p>“No.”</p><p> </p><p>He doesn’t have to say it too loudly. Their sadness, their regret, all their mistakes wash from his mind as he comes to stand before her.</p><p> </p><p>“Rey,” he says in the coldest voice he can muster, “time to wake up.”</p><p> </p><p>She’s strong. She knows the Dark Side. He’d exposed her to it himself. She can handle this. She’ll come back. He takes her waist in his hands, pulls her down from suspension. The Darkness throbs beneath his fingertips. She’s floating with the power of it, feather-light in his grip. He clasps her harder, mouth tight, pulling her closer to him.</p><p> </p><p>The stands around them are humming quietly, expectation in their discordant trill. They make no move so Ben tries again.</p><p> </p><p>“Rey,” he moves one hand to her face, cups her cheek so her mouth falls closed and the twist of pain that’s etched into her forehead fades. There she is. A glimmer of her. He tries to open the Bond and her eyes come open instead, slow and gentle. The Power recedes, pulled into the centre of her body and she sags against him.</p><p> </p><p>“Ben?”</p><p> </p><p>It’s barely a whisper, her last word pushed on the last of her breath, but he hears her anyway. She’s still there. He has to get her out of this place.</p><p> </p><p>The crowds are chanting, low and sibilant. He scans the floor of the throne room, finds no immediate threat, and backs toward the exit, pulling her with him. She’s on her feet, stumbling with his arms around her and Ben is murmuring quiet encouragement. She’ll be ok, she doesn’t need to worry, he’s here now.</p><p> </p><p>The muscles of her back move under his fingertips when she plants herself firmly. He stops with her, eyes drawn back to hers. His hand is still cupping her jaw. She mirrors him, ghosting her icy fingertips along his skin to pull him closer. She’s looking at his mouth and Ben holds his breath. Her lips are cold, dry. She tastes like iron and terror. As she kisses him, her hand slips from his cheek down to his neck, pressing against his jugular. The Bond shivers and Ben closes his eyes, desperate to find her on the other side of it. Because he knows now. </p><p> </p><p>This isn’t Rey.</p><p> </p><p>Her thumb creeps over his skin. He lets her grip his throat, relaxes into her hand. The humming in the room swells, pitching higher until it is all he can hear. Her fingers squeeze tight and she breaks from his mouth, sharp and vicious. She lifts him, inches off the ground, staring at him with her head tilted to the side.</p><p> </p><p>“Paramore?”</p><p> </p><p>He’s going to vomit. If her hand was not keeping his throat closed, he already would be. He’s failed. Like always. Failed to keep her safe, failed to stop the thing that destroyed her. Failed to listen when it mattered most.</p><p> </p><p><em>She’s gone. She’s gone. She’s gone</em>. Like a bell chiming deep in his mind.</p><p> </p><p>Her fingers release his throat but he is pushed higher still and her hand remains outstretched, held up to keep him in place. Every muscle of Ben’s body is rigid. She’s testing her power. Soon she will know she could blink him from existence with a single thought. He almost projects it to her, almost wills her to do it and then –</p><p> </p><p>Another glimmer. Hot, like burning sand. Desperate and hungry and so, so alone. He hears it as clearly as he had all that time ago, in the rain. A child’s voice, raw and anguished. Her voice.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>Come back!</em>
</p><p> </p><p>There is the slightest frown on Rey’s face, the barest indication that something has slipped, and she tightens her hold again, crushing his ribs so hard they pop, reverberating up his spine.</p><p> </p><p>“Paramour.” She says, stronger now, petulant.</p><p> </p><p>She’s in there. He just has to find her.</p><p> </p><p>“Yes,” he tells her through gritted teeth. He breaks from her hold, wonders how long he will be able to do that - days maybe, hours probably. The chanting of the crowds around them gets louder when he takes a step toward her. They <em>want</em> this. The thought makes him shudder.</p><p> </p><p>She’s watching him, curious. He takes another step forward and the swell of sound crashes off the stone walls, reverberates endlessly until he’s swaying with it. There is nowhere else to go. No-one left to help him. No-where he would rather be than where she is, even this pale silhouette of her. He is the only one who can bring her back.</p><p> </p><p>Ben Solo drops to his knee before the Empress of the Sith.</p><p> </p><p>He looks up to see her frown and tilt her head, unhappy. Gently, slowly, she gives a small wave of her hand. All of them fall. In the stands, every last hooded robe drop like stone. Hundreds of instant deaths prickle in the Force and Ben trembles with the strain of it, glad he is already on his knees. The chamber is deathly silent.</p><p> </p><p>“Loud,” she whispers, by way of explanation, “too loud.”</p><p> </p><p>“Yes.” He makes sure to say it quietly, to match his tone to hers.</p><p> </p><p>She seems happier. She takes a deep breath, as if the air is not crackling with the static throb of dark energy, and looks around her. The movement of her neck as she turns to take in her surroundings makes him wince. The same as when she’d turned to him in the marketplace, when she’d been in his quarters, the exact same muscles move in the exact same order. He has to suppress the thin sound that wants to crawl from him. He tells himself not to focus on the pain. He’s done that for so long it’s instinct, but it won’t help him here. It never helped him. It only took.</p><p> </p><p>“Hungry,” she says, softly, and for a split second, Ben hears Rey. She’s there, beneath the breathy word. She knows hunger. It’s familiar to her, in all its forms. He looks up. There’s a foreign glint in her eyes. So fast, this spark of darkness is already turning in the hazel there. She’s moving her hands over Rey’s body, feeling the curves of her hips and the flat plane of her stomach, stretching and flexing her arms and fingers. She sighs as her palms trace Rey’s breasts. He needs to be strong. He needs to move.</p><p> </p><p>He stands, abrupt, towering over her, closing the distance between them with a hard look to match the cold stare that’s bleeding from her. He can’t see Rey now. But he’ll find her again. Without preamble, he wraps one arm around her lower back, tugs so her belly hits his pelvis with a thud that draws a thin, unfamiliar smile from her closed mouth.</p><p> </p><p>“Hungry, hmm?” His voice has dropped to a deep, low whisper, "Me too."</p><p> </p><p>He waits a moment before he kisses her, watching the effect of his tone, willing his voice to reach her, to spark her memory and draw her out. Her gaze is steady, lifeless. No recognition. He doesn’t have a word for the buzzing pain in his chest but it makes him want to hurt something, to take his saber and slash through a wall. Instead, he dips his mouth to hers. Her lips are warmer, this time. There is still the faint taste of iron but he ignores it and sweeps against her teeth until she opens her mouth for him. Her tongue is hot, quick against his. Her body tenses when he takes her bottom lip between his teeth, hands pressed to his shoulders as if she might push him back.</p><p> </p><p>Rey would want to push him back now. He holds her tighter, one hand slipping lower on her back, over the round of her ass, pressing her against him and pushing his thigh between her legs. He grips his side of the Bond and yanks hard, focused on his memory of her with such force it makes him still entirely.</p><p> </p><p><em>Don’t want this? Fight then, scavenger</em>.</p><p> </p><p>He’s on the ground, fast, head snapping up from the rock and she’s above him, stepping over his body so her boots land on either side of his hips. There’s ringing in his ears and blood on his neck and she is looking at him, outraged.</p><p> </p><p>“Rey?”</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>Hope? Love? Have we won, already?</em>
</p><p> </p><p>She crouches down over him with a shake of her head, ridding herself of something. She grips his jaw hard between two fingers and her thumb and rocks his head back into the ground, once, twice.</p><p> </p><p>“Empress.” Her jaw clamps shut on the word, ends it with a hiss that sounds like Sith.</p><p> </p><p>Ben closes his eyes as she pulls him to his feet, then up higher again. He’s a foot off the floor, arms outstretched so the cords of his tendons are ridged in his skin. There are bands of weight squeezing his chest and his shoulder-joints creak with the strain of it.</p><p> </p><p>OK, he admits to himself as he fights for breath, perhaps that was not the best tactical decision he could have made. He heaves in a breath and opens his eyes to the Empress. He can’t break free, has no choice but to stop struggling, grimacing as she lowers him slowly to the floor.  She steps forward and grasps the hem of his shirt, pulling it up to his chest. There’s a memory associated with this, Rey’s memory. He can tell the Empress has seen it by the flick of her tongue over her lower lip. She brings her mouth to his skin, the exact spot that still tingles from healing, and bites hard. The sound that slips from Ben’s lips is half snarl, half moan, and all involuntary.</p><p> </p><p>There is a surge, a Force that snaps in the air, and a flash of anger that is not his own. The Empress reels back and brings both hands to her temples, lips pulled back in effort. Her hold on him drops. He’s down, cheek grinding into the to stony ground, and the pressure on his chest is released. Ben stays where he is, pushing into his hands so he can meet her eye without rising. Already, that familiar signature that had burst around him is gone and the Empresses cold stare has returned. The longer the Darkness holds her, the more power it will have. He has to find a way to keep the Sith’s attention while he reaches for Rey with the Bond.</p><p> </p><p>“<em>Sith'ari</em>,” he whispers, shame pooling in his belly. He licks his lips to draw her attention there, “let me serve you.”</p><p> </p><p>Another reptilian twist to her neck and above her head the lines of Destroyers, visible through the open roof, flicker to life. Strobes of tracking signals and hanger lighting flare one after the other. The last of Rey’s effort, fading. He has to move faster.</p><p> </p><p>“Let me sate your hunger.”</p><p> </p><p>He pulls his shirt over his head, slow, only breaking eye contact with her when the bunched material passes over his face. She frowns, stills, watches closely as he crawls toward her. Ben takes it as a good sign when he reaches her boots and he’s still alive. He can be docile, subservient. He can do that, if it will help him reach Rey.</p><p> </p><p>He’s gentle when he traces over the curves of her calves, shuffling closer to softly knead the muscles of her thighs when he reaches higher. He takes his time, watching the frozen face above him for any sign that she might strike out, for any sign of Rey. Shifting closer again so his knees are at her feet, he dips his thumbs along the crease of her thighs, running the V they form up and down, increasing the pressure with each sweep.</p><p> </p><p>The frown deepens and he dips his thumbs between her thighs, kneading outward, not touching that part of her that he knows must be stirring. She gives him the smallest sound, barely an exhale and his heart jumps in response. It’s not her voice but he wants it to be. How often had this moment consumed his thoughts? He’d punished himself for it, at the start. It was a sign of his weakness, something to be hidden for fear Snoke would find it. And then they touched, and his mind had been crazed with her. Can she see him in there? Is she watching this? Is she afraid?</p><p> </p><p>He looks up, brings his chin closer to her, and lets out a long, hot breath. His fingers move to her belt.</p><p> </p><p>“Empress?” he asks to appease what’s holding her but he worries at the Bond, subtle, gentle.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>Forgive me. I don’t know another way. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>She nods, lets him open the belt and hook his thumbs into the waistline of her pants. He wants to close his eyes but instead, he keeps them focused on hers. Amber flicks to his mouth and he tucks his bottom lip between his teeth as he tugs the material down. It’s just a kiss, just his lips and chin pressed to her small mound because he’s only human and some things can’t be fought. But he’s weaker than that and he finds himself hunching, craning his neck, lips parted and tongue flicking out to taste her skin. Before he can stop himself, he’s lost in the heat of her. Her boots slide along the stone, a shocked adjustment that’s echoed by her sharp inhale. Now he can reach her more easily and he squeezes her hips to steady her, to pull her closer. She is soft, delicate, and she tastes of every sweet and musky fever-dream he’s ever had. Better. His hand drops to the back of her thigh, pushing to draw her closer, to open her further. Her knee hit’s his shoulder and there is weakness in his short hum of pleasure.</p><p> </p><p>Something in the sound must jolt her, but he can’t tell if it’s Rey or the Sith he’s seeing when the Empress steps back and looks down at him. For a moment, there is only their breath, his heavy and loud, hers sharp and short.  </p><p> </p><p>Now, there is shame. He blinks it away. That should not have been his first taste of her, not when she’s like this. But he can’t focus on that thought because the Empress is pulling at the cloth of her tunic, opening a tie at her side so her breasts are bared. She steps out of her pants as the material of her tunic falls behind her, and comes to stand before him in nothing but boots and arms wraps. Perfect. Rey’s tiny waist and her tight stomach and the stiffened buds of her nipples and the thin line of her clavicle that threads to the dip where he longs to press his lips. Too perfect and too awful. Ben can’t move with the guilty tug of his lower abdomen in response to seeing her this way.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>Rey, now would be a good time to fight your way back.  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>He must be too forceful when he wrenches the Bond, too desperate, because he’s pulled to his feet again and held in place. The Empress walks around him in a slow circle, running the flat of her palm over his chest and back.</p><p> </p><p>“Remove those,” she tells him when her orbit is complete, eyeing his trousers. He pulls them off, the material still tucked into his boots, and she circles him again. There is a thin line blood on his neck and he’s dizzy from where his head connected with the stone. He almost reaches for it, to press the gash and draw from it. But that not what Rey needs. He can’t save her from this with more of the Dark.</p><p> </p><p>He looks for somewhere soft, finds nothing. With a grimace, he reaches out and gathers their clothes and the robes of the dead Emperor into a pile on the floor. She watches him, quick movement of her chin as her eyes flick to his mouth again. He swallows hard. Rey’s in there and some part of him is certain she can see him, that she’s watching.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>I don’t want to do this, Rey. Come back. Make it stop. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>The Empress steps forward and wraps her hand around the base of his traitorous cock, hard from the moment she’d removed Rey’s clothing and he’d licked her taste from his lips. Her grip is too tight and he bends a little at the waist, bracing himself for pain. It doesn’t come. She looks up, studies his face, and adjusts the pressure of her hand, loosening slightly and giving him an experimental pump. He tries not to make a sound but that’s not possible with every licentious thought he’d ever had of this very scenario racing through his head.</p><p> </p><p>She pumps again and Ben attempts to remember who he is and what he’s doing here. There are faint tear tracks on her cheeks. Those are Rey’s tears, her face. But not her. He holds steady for three, four, five slow sweeps of her fingers up and down his shaft. Her eyes are on him the entire time and Ben keeps his features still. Somehow, it’s easier like this and he comes back to himself as she smears precum between her fingertips.</p><p> </p><p>The empress drops to her knees and looks up. Every muscle in Ben’s abdomen tightens in response. It’s Rey’s mouth, open slightly as she tips the head of his cock down toward her. It’s her soft lips and her wet tongue and her hot breath and he cannot do this.</p><p> </p><p>He tugs a little harder at the Bond.</p><p> </p><p><em>Rey. You can fight this. You’re strong. Stop this</em>.</p><p> </p><p>Ben can do what needs to be done, lower himself at the feet of the Sith. He’s no stranger to that. But this, he cannot allow. He will not permit Rey to look on, trapped inside the thing that ruined her, while she sucks his cock. He grasps her chin, harder than he meant, and there is a sudden jerk as the Force constricts around him and his knees slam into the rock. Her fingers clamp around his throat.</p><p> </p><p>The hiss of Sith leaks from her mouth is filled with a craving that sets his teeth on edge.</p><p> </p><p>Before she can crush his windpipe, he leans forward. His lips find her neck and he sucks hard. Pain and pleasure. Ben knows, intimately, how distracting and confusing those sensations can be when they’re mixed together. He wields them like a weapon and pushes her back into the waiting pile of scuffed, dirty clothing. His elbow takes the brunt of their fall but he barely feels it. He cradles the back of her head to keep it from the floor.</p><p> </p><p>He is running out of time. The Empress’s hand is still on his throat and he’s using the Force to help himself breathe. He has to reach Rey, has to drag her back to him. The Sith will notice if he pulls the Bond too hard. Distraction is what he needs. His hand, sloping down from her shoulder to find her breast, yielding in his palm, the hardness of her arousal at the webbing of his thumb. He mouths a line up her neck to her jaw, rough and urgent but softening his tongue against the damage he’s causing. She’ll mark. Even if they win this, she’ll be marked for days. The thought makes him harder and his hips push against her thigh. It’s involuntary, primal and he doesn’t have time to think it through.</p><p> </p><p><em>I’m not going to stop, you hear me? Open the Bond</em>.</p><p> </p><p>He shifts back to look in her eyes. Nothing. No trace of her, just a cold, violent hunger that curls his fingers around her breast, too hard. Her hand doesn’t move but his throat constricts further, robbing his breath entirely. Ben’s eyes widen and he thinks of all the times he has done this very thing, the lick of pleasure from choking someone else, someone weaker than him. There’s no doubt he deserves a little retribution. He can take it.</p><p> </p><p>The Empress is staring, wary. He traces his hand over the soft curve of her belly, fingers dipping between the gap in her thighs, elbow nudging her knees open.</p><p> </p><p><em>“Jen’ari</em>,” she breathes.</p><p> </p><p>Rey’s voice but not her, he reminds himself as she arches into his touch. Her face, twisting into bicep, but it’s not her. It’s her hair, coming lose and draping over his forearm, soft and smelling of some kind of flower he doesn’t know. But this is not Rey. This is not what she wants. When he kisses her, the Sith allows him to breathe again and he forces himself not to gasp into her mouth.</p><p> </p><p>He’s soft with her, firm but gentle, as he dips the tips of his fingers into the small slick of her wetness and circles it over her until she opens for him. When he touches her clit, the Empress gives a clipped moan that ends in a high inhale and he has to squeeze his eyes shut. He bends to hide his face in her hair and hopes she doesn’t feel the tremble in his fingers. How many times has he imagined these sounds, pulling them from her with his fingers and his mouth and his body? How many times has he wrapped his hand around himself and spilled at the thought of touching her here? Of taking what he wanted, of ripping the saber from her hand and the clothes from her body and shoving himself inside her while she screamed his real name. It’s too much.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>Rey, please. Please don’t make me do this. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>He’s too loud. Too emotional. The Sith hears him. She stiffens, trapping his fingers between her thighs. The wind is knocked out of him when she flips him onto his back. His arms are trapped beneath her knees and she’s straddling his belly.</p><p> </p><p>“<em>Grotthu</em>,” she snarls the slur, leaning down so he can feel her breath on his cheek, “she’s never coming back. Not for you. We are all there is and we crave.” She straightens over him and extends her hand toward his face.</p><p> </p><p>Pain. His blood is on fire. At first, without the Dark to dip into, he’s at a loss for how to stay above it, to not succumb to it. But then there is another feeling, lower, physical, real. He cranes his neck and watches in horror as the Empress shifts high over his hips and adjusts his cock so he nudges against her. She lowers her hips and there is a white-hot burst of pleasure that overcomes the pain.</p><p> </p><p>Tight, too tight. Wet, but not wet enough. He watches her struggle to push down, to take him in when she’s not ready. He’s unable to move to stop her and he can almost feel Rey’s alarm, close to the surface of their lifeless connection. She’s there, watching this, and he’s not sure how much of it she can feel. This will hurt. This will hurt her and he cannot allow it. The panic rises until it nearly engulfs him.</p><p> </p><p>“Sith’ari, wait!” Ben forces the words from his lips, his mind racing, “let me make it better. Use my mouth. You can keep me still, and I’ll give you everything you want, but come here first.”</p><p> </p><p>She’s wary and Ben bites his lip hard, opening the cut there, hoping the glimpse of blood will divert her. Her nostrils flare when the thin trail of warmth trickles to his chin. She crawls, feline, up his body, and licks it from his skin, eyes rolling back. His stomach rolls too but he lets his head rest back as she straightens and spreads her thighs wider to lower herself onto his waiting tongue. He doesn’t waste any time, can’t afford to. He takes her clit between soft lips and uses the flat of his tongue to roll it before sucking gently. The Empress moans. It echoes in the cold air. She bends forward, bracing herself with one hand above his head and the other carding through his hair to the back of his neck, pressing the torn skin to adjust his head to the angle she wants.</p><p> </p><p>Ben flexes his hands, testing, and finds his fingers loose. He sucks harder, setting a rhythm that makes her hips buck forward and down. An arm is freed. Ben uses his liberated hand to push his forefinger inside her. There’s a hiss somewhere above his head but he can’t see anything except her abdomen, muscles pulling taut as she rocks. She wetter now, pooling between his knuckles. He adds a second finger and tries to reach Rey again.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>Do you like this? Is this what you want? Is that why you won’t fight?</em>
</p><p> </p><p>The hand that’s holding his head rips away and slaps the ground beside his cheek. His second arm comes free and he uses it to press her belly, holding her skin taut so her swollen clit is pushed against his tongue. He curls his fingers inside her, stretching and searching.</p><p> </p><p>His cock is rock hard and hurting, hips thrusting into nothing. His body is freed when he touches that small patch of ridged skin, high inside her. Her thighs quiver and Ben knows this is his only shot. He twists, pushing her to the ground so her thighs clamp around his head in shock. He grins at her, knowing it doesn’t reach his eyes, and presses harder, running the tips of his fingers back and forth inside her. The Empress’ furious expression dissolves into a moan. She tips her jaw toward the open roof and breathes high and fast. He brings his mouth down and licks a long strip, flicks the tip of his tongue. Her legs are shaking, jerking around his shoulders. He does it again and again, then focuses on her clit. He presses his lips hard around her and rolls his tongue until it aches. Her chest is heaving, and she’s clenching hard around his fingers. The sound of her high-pitched, whining breath is echoing in the chamber. He palms his straining length, easing the pressure of listening to her come, feeling her clench against his mouth.</p><p> </p><p>Now. While she’s distracted, he tears at the Bond, forcing it to the limit of its connection, further.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>How much more Rey? Fight, damn you!</em>
</p><p> </p><p>Nothing… and then something. The smallest touch. A breath in his mind that sounds like his name, pitched as high as the Empress’s voice but so much sweeter and filled with longing.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>I’m trying, Ben. Distract her. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>The Sith must sense something, or maybe he’s gone so entirely still, focused on the thin filament of Rey’s voice that he’s forgotten everything else. There’s hope, like a searing burn, but the Empress has stopped writhing, lifted her head to stare at him with gold-flecked eyes that he wants to hide from. Shit. He surges forward over her and buries himself inside her, fast, to the hilt all at once. He shoves so deep that her body skates across the robes they’re lying on. Fuck, it feels good. It shouldn’t feel this good but it does because he’s been so hard for so long and he can’t stop now. He grabs her a fistful of her hair and pulls to open her neck to his mouth.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>Try harder, Rey. This is… difficult. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>Her nails tear across his shoulders as he rocks into her, trying to slow down and failing. She’s moaning, long and grating, and there is a thin echo of that sound in his mind, getting louder. His hands snake under her and he pulls her upright until he’s sitting on his heels and she’s bouncing in his lap. He focuses on keeping still, not pushing up into her like an animal, trying to regain some measure of control.</p><p> </p><p>His hands are at her hips, helping her to raise and lower herself onto him. She grinds against him, and he wishes she would stop looking at him because he can’t turn away from her like this. The Bond is twisting and the Sith will see it. He hunches forward to suck her nipple into his mouth and the stuttering shuck of breath she gives him in response is overwhelming. He pushes her off his lap and turns her so she’s on all fours before him.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>Rey, now. Open this fucking Bond. Right. Now. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>She’s there, a blast like fire as she pushes through to him. The Dark comes with her, a wave stretching miles over his head. He’s drowning in it, red at the edge of his vision. She's built a bridge, something strong enough to pass the Dark to him. He’ll tear her apart. No, not her, everything else. He’ll keep her. He’ll use her like this whenever he wants. She’ll be the one to beg and crawl as the galaxy burns. He’ll fuck every part of her body until her throat is raw from screaming and her body is a boneless mess and he won’t stop, even then.</p><p> </p><p>He drives into the Empress, mad with the feral power at his fingertips. But Rey is there, in his mind, hovering above the Darkness, pulling him up to her. She takes it back, only what she can handle and no more, and Kylo Ren ruts into her with a roar of victory.</p><p> </p><p>She can feel this, how he grasps her hips and roughly pulls him her to him. He reaches forward and between her legs, circling her until she’s clenching hard around him, keening and pushing back against him. He can feel her come, the burst of her pleasure as she takes back control of her body.</p><p> </p><p>“Ben.” Her voice, frayed and hoarse, filled with fear and confusion.</p><p> </p><p>His hips stutter. He pulls out of her so fast she cries out in shock. He grabs the head of his cock, squeezes hard, his breath ragged. But, he’s too close. He can’t stop and she is probing, searching through his thoughts with a concern that softens what remains of the Darkness. His whole body is tensed, his mind is flaring, trying to settle around the Force that is filling him. Rey twists back to him, reaching for him blindly. He holds up a hand to stop her coming closer, frantic as he tries to move away. Instead, he finds her shoulder, pushes her back. He falls with her, angled oddly over her chest, bracing himself with one hand.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>Rey, I have to. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>Her voice is so calm when she says his name, so full of warmth. She brings her fingers to his hip, guides him closer to her mouth and, already, it’s too much.</p><p> </p><p>“It’s alright, Ben. I’m here. You can come.”</p><p> </p><p>He does.  </p><p> </p><p>Like a rocket. He avoids her mouth but streaks over her neck and chest. She watches him, leaning back on her elbows to push her breasts toward him and he groans as he pumps the last of it across the ridged tendons of her throat.</p><p> </p><p>He all but falls into her after, head dropped to her shoulder, arms circling tight so his spend is smeared between them.  </p><p> </p><p>
  <em>I’m sorry. It was too much. </em>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <em>I know. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>Her hands are soothing, circling his shoulder-blades, pressing him closer until he feels he must be crushing her. The Force is moving freely between them. His Light and hers, his Darkness and hers, swaying back and forth through the Bond like a pendulum. It steadies with their breath.</p><p> </p><p>He pulls back to look at her, watching as the golden flecks fade from her eyes. He wants to kiss her but she raises her hand, straight up, toward the open roof. The Fleet. He’d forgotten them. It takes him a moment to stretch his own arm overhead, helping her shut down the ships, to lower them to the ground, and detonate the firing devices so nothing of their weaponry remains. A few deaths, occur, those closest to the weapons bay on each Destroyer. The rest survive but when Rey wraps her fingers around his, twining them together in the air above their heads, Ben decides he can worry about the Order later.</p><p> </p><p>He stands, naked and smeared with dirt and cum. He holds out his hand to help her up. She raises an eyebrow, smirks in a way that definitely should not be as pretty as it is. It makes him purse his lips and glower.  </p><p> </p><p>
  <em>Take my fucking hand, Rey. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>She does.</p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Well, let that be a warning to you all - do not drink and write. And most certainly, do not agree to <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/RedRoseWhite">RedRoseWhite's</a> challenge of writing a pearl necklace into your smut. </p><p>Please don't judge me, I was intoxicated for the majority of this, you can tell because it gets steadily worse as I finished the bottle of wine! Hahahaha!</p><p>Thank you for reading!</p></blockquote></div></div>
</body>
</html>